What do you think?
Rate this book


February, 1949. Fort Myers Florida. It started out to be such a nice day. But early morning gunfire at the Royal Plaza Motor Hotel changed all that. One white man is dead. One black man is dead. The widow of the white man has just crashed the investigation, and is waving a gun around. Barely escaping the shot that blows the window out of the car in which he is sitting is Dan Ewing, who isn't even supposed to be there. Saving his bacon is police detective Bud Wright. Bud and Dan are more than fishing buddies, but no one can know that. But their secret is just one of many in this small town. To start, Dan is the manager of the Caloosa Hotel, a class act if you're just passing through, but if you are a member of the less known Caloosa Club, Dan provides a variety of "services" club members may discreetly enjoy. This doesn't sit well with everyone in town, including the sheriff, a wealthy car dealer, the KKK, and Bud Wright, despite the fact that he's sleeping with Dan. But the car dealer is the dead white man, the black man is the husband of his wife's former maid, and the sheriff, Bud's boss seems determined to keep the investigation off track. So what does this apparent murder suicide have to do with the Caloosa? Journalist Elliott Mackle takes his wonderfully realized "why-done-it?' mystery to fascinating levels as he explores the various factions of a small southern town facing the giant implications of a rapidly changing society.
Elliott Mackle served for ten years as the Atlanta Journal Constitution's restaurant critic. As a Journal-Constitution staffer he also covered the Olympic Games, political conventions and wrote a weekly travel feature. Hecurrently lives with his partner of many years in Atlanta. This is his first novel.
280 pages, Paperback
First published February 1, 2003
"Florida in the late 1940s was a model of Old Testament intolerance in matters sexual, political and social."
"I might have said there's nothing more natural and less degenerate than sleeping next to the person you care about. But I was no crusader. I was just a man who'd run out of luck during the war, a guy who'd found out what he wanted the hard way, and who'd learned that he'd better go after it again when the going seemed right."
"Mixing it up isn't a relationship, Sarge. But two people who get together and plan to stay together, however they can do it, and who say they care about each other a lot, maybe even, you know, love each other, that's a relationship. And it takes two—the two of us working at it."